Of Wonderwalls and Rehab
by Sadistic Shroom
Summary: She was going to kill Superman-never mind he was her 'mentor' or the fact that the world needed him in regards too keeping the planet functional. She supposed the rising threat of humans spontaneously developing superpowers by taking some drug going by the name of "Kyrpt" was pretty bad. She figures the universe has gone to cowshit anyway. Eventual Clark/OC
1. Prologue

**Note: Yeah yeah yeah, Mia, why the flying fuck have you started another story? Get your ass back to your other one(s).**

**Not that sorry actually. This has been plaguing me for awhile, and be warned, it is not my main priority, that would be my other story, and since I refuse to advertise other stories on other stories, if you want to check it out-knock yourself out.**

**That being said, if you're here to lecture me, I promise to try and update regularly now. But shockingly, I do have a life so…**

**No, not really, I'm just lazy.**

**Warnings: I have a potty mouth, my characters have potty mouths. Flame me, I fucking dare you.**

**Rated M: Lets face it, I get colorful with cussing, and don't want some 12 year old stumbling onto this and their parent bitching me out before FanFiction makes me take this down.**

**Summary: Petri Dish isn't exactly a name a kid wants. But Petri isn't exactly a normal kid. Doesn't mean she likes her name, but that's another story. She also completely blames Superman for the manifestation of her superpowers. This-this cannot end well. Clark Kent/OC**

Prologue: Secrets

Standing at the edge of the building was surprisingly much more intimidating than I had originally predicted it would be. My shortly chopped hair blew into my face, making it hard to see, and ruffled my clothes. I was high. Really high. 7 stories high, and was beginning to seriously regret whatever it was I had even considered doing.

What was I doing on the roof again?

That's right. Proving to my best friend Hannah, that I can in fact fly.

Now, standing on the ledge, this was beginning to look like a really stupid idea, and the chance of me simply dreaming that I could fly was a very real possibility. I didn't want to die, and I'm pretty hopeful that Hannah felt the same way. Had this been 5 years ago when Superman was still hanging around, I might have given it a shot. Then again, 5 years ago, I was an idiot 19 year old who was convinced she was invincible.

I could tell by Hannah's face she was beginning to regret this with each passing minute I stood up here. Because that meant I was considering it.

Hannah, while sometimes annoying and bit of a bitch, was my best friend, and actually understood why I was so fucked up.

But that comes later.

"O-Okay, look you don't have to do this, Petri, I believe you, alright?" Hannah shouted suddenly, her voice filled with underlying and well hidden fear.

I nodded, turning slowly and sending a wicked grin at Hannah. "Does this mean-" my sentence was never finished, because suddenly, I was falling backwards. A scream ripped through the air, Hannah, and she ran forward, her arm outstretched in an attempt to reach me.

I think in that second it first occurred to me how blue the sky was, and how beautiful it was, the clouds, such an oddly stark comparison against it... even if the blue itself was so light.

The wind stopped rushing, and Hannah's screams caught in her throat.

It took me a moment, but when I spared a glance down, and the ground wasn't rushing towards me, I realized it had happened again.

My eyes locked with Hannah's, and I squeaked nervously, "Told you I could fly..."


	2. Chapter 1

**Note: Smallville fans… This should makes sense to you. Okay, in that series, blue kryptonite temporarily strips Clark of his powers, and heals humans. Just pretend, for the sake of the story, that this is a possibility of happening, in the exact right conditions and such. Okay? Don't freak out. Yes, Too Blue Eyes is Clark, though I figured he wouldn't have made an appearance as Superman just yet, and would be more concerned with getting his job back. The Diner Hannah and Petri work at is like right down the block, so he was working up motivation or some shit. **

Chapter One: Blue

It was cold as Hell, if Hell would be cold anyway. I always imagined Hell to be cold. Hot seems a bit too mainstream. Anyway, it was cold as Hell, and my flimsy nightwear wasn't doing me any favors. I wasn't trying to impress anyone-that ship left the port long ago, after my first boyfriend refused to so much as kiss me.

Seriously, though, it was freezing to the point Moose had even climbed into my bed. Which was seriously saying something considering the little fucker hates me, sadly I promised to watch him for my brother, Oz, while he was on duty.

I still regret it.

Every fucking day.

But enough about Satan's hellhound.

Then of course, the bastard proceeded to push me out of my warm bed and growl at me whenever I came within reaching distance.

The floor could be comfy...

I decide to not even go there, and instead sleep on the balcony in my chair.

Or at least, you know, drag it in.

Why?

Oh, I am broke, and can't even afford a couch.

Outside chair it is then.

The night air is even worse than the floor, though that was to be somewhat expected. I start shivering almost immediately. At the sound of a wolf whistle, I glance down, only to cover my chest quickly and my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Apparently, my shirt is not just flimsy, but also quite sheer. Lovely. Why I didn't recognize this earlier, I don't know.

I try to move my chair, and manage about an inch or two, much to my utter embarrassment and the amusement of the asshole who lives across from me. The same guy who wolf whistled.

Pervert.

I need a boyfriend or something to protect me from that horrible mutt and creepy, ass-hat neighbors.

My life sucks sometimes.

"Holy shit!" the little fuckass yells suddenly, causing me to look up in confusion.

Coming in at a troubling angle, and looking startlingly close to my current trajectory is an asteroid. Or, meteor. I don't really care, but it was glowing blue, and that prospect in itself was nerve racking. I'm half-surprised I didn't piss myself.

So, like any rational person, I screamed bloody murder, "Oh shit! I'm going to die a virgin, and I've never even met Batman!"

(Actually, I don't even really like Batman…)

Then I died.

Okay, not really, that would be a terrible story.

But the meteorite did hit me. In the stomach and forced me into the wall, sufficiently leaving a gaping hole in my poor, poor stomach.

I think what bothered me most was the fact that it didn't hurt. Not really. My eyes were shut tightly, and I was pushed up against the wall. My chair was in pieces with annoying flames dancing on it, and the wall was cracked behind me. In a daze, I look down, only mildly surprised when my stomach was completely fine (I have incredible luck), and just my flimsy shirt had scorch marks around it.

...

Waking up, was not fun-it never is, but when your brain feels like it's on the verge of exploding and every fucking thing is louder than it should be, it's slightly worse.

Flying fucksicles, I'm hungover, aren't I?

I mean, I've never experienced the sensation myself-mostly because I'm too scared of what I'll do drunk, but Hannah had explained it plenty of times.

I groan, bringing my hands over my eyes, which I refuse to open and increase my headache, and grumble to Moose, who I assume to be beside me, "What the fuck did I do last night?"

I lay there for a few more minutes, vaguely noting it was warmer than it was last night, and force myself to open my eyes and get on with my day.

I couldn't even bring myself to scream.

The proud part of me- you know, the egotistical, smart-ass, bitch that actually cares what other people think is ashamed to admit I did not handle the next few moments with grace.

At all.

Clearly.

I was floating.

Not hovered floating, but fucking floating above my bed, nearly touching the ceiling.

I panicked and crashed to the ground, completely missing the bed and landing on Moose with a thud.

This, oddly didn't hurt me at all, but resulted in the canine wonder to bite my arm.

Or at least, try to anyway. He ended up breaking a tooth instead and getting several cracks. I wouldn't have even noticed unless I hadn't been looking down or heard Moose's yelp.

He ran away while I gaped at my arm. Mark free.

What.

Utterly mind-boggled and fucking terrified of the current situation, I did what I always do in times of panic.

I acted like nothing was wrong. I ignored my sudden abilities, my freakishly impenetrable skin, my sudden strength, the floating, the whole episode last night and my heightened senses in general.

Sadly, I couldn't ignore the fact that suddenly, with my vision suddenly superior, I was actually kinda pretty. Kinda. As in barely, I wasn't exactly a supermodel before.

My hair didn't seem as frizzy, and my skin not as blotchy. It seemed to be the same color all the way around. And my eyes looked brighter, no longer a dull, un-expressive grey, but now, a bright, cheerful shade that seemed to lighten up my whole face.

I smiled softly at my reflection, but the effect seemed ruined, so instead, I quickly changed into my work clothes, and put a headband on, before jogging out the door in hopes to make the bus this time.

I was faster than normal, and in my attempt to act like strange things were not happening to me, I forced myself to match the pace of a woman walking briskly beside me.

It was going to be a long day.

...

You know those days, when absolutely nothing is going right and part of you just wants to crawl into a corner and die while the other, smaller bit that is your motivation just kinda stops functioning all together but leaves that aggravating last shred of hope it will get better?

Yeah.

Everything that could have gone wrong today has so far.

I came in late, which earned my pay being docked for the day and a lecture from my boss. The first guy I served grabbed my ass and proceeded to harass me the entire time. My head felt like it would explode, everything I touched broke, which my boss, Oliver, keeps taking from my paycheck.

I didn't get one tip either, because while trying not to break any objects, I was ridiculously slow.  
I could deal with all that. I would go home afterwards, find some earmuffs, curl into a ball, and hopefully disappear.

Then, of all people in the world, in walks the most beautiful man I ever laid eyes on.

And then sits in my section.

Motherfuck, is the entire universe against me today?

I slowly walk over, having long since forged the pen and pad after one to many breaks. Charlie was pissed I wasn't writing it at first, but after a glance at my distraught look, he let me off the hook for now.

Thank God for small miracles.

He glances up when I come into acceptable speaking range, and gives a smile. My head throbs as I try to focus on just him, and I think he can tell because he pauses and asks me if I am alright.

I nod, and force my eyes open. I could do this. I choose to focus on his voice, and end up staring into his eyes.

They are really blue, I note dully. Too blue.

I decide I don't like them.

Then I realize how creepy I must have looked starting at his eyes and quickly averted my gaze, mentally noting his order.

Pancakes and coffee.

Got it.

I quickly give his order to Charlie, and promptly sit down in an empty booth, resting my head in my hands.  
"What's wrong with me?" I mutter, not having noticed Hannah walk over and sit. She lightly puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, "Hey, Petri, are you okay?"

Her voice is loud. Really loud.

It hurts.

My hands fly to my ears, and I try to tune it out.

"Petri?" Hannah demands, standing in front of me now, her hands resting on my shoulders.

"It's so loud Hannah. It hurts," I mumble, removing my hands for her benefit.

Hannah clams slightly, though she is still tense. "Hey, it'll be okay? Are you hungover? Is that it?"

I nod, even though it's a lie. I think Hannah knows, but doesn't comment. "Okay, um, here, just focus on my voice. Nothing else. One thing at a time Petri. You can do this. You can't get fired from this job, okay? Focus. One thing at a time."

She walks away, and I focus on her footsteps. It doesn't hurt so much.

With a slightly renewed vigor, I stand and quickly check on everyone, and finally work my way back to too blue eyes, his other in hand.

Ew. That rhymes.

I am remarkably disappointed in myself.

Boo me.

I swore off rhyming in Middle School.

Whatever. I also swore off boys.

…

Actually. I didn't break any promises to myself there. Still haven't been kissed.

Do I look like a leper?

No.

Wait…

Do I?

Damn.

People think I'm a leper, so they won't go and French me?

Shit.

Monkeys throwing shit, that fucking asteroid is going to kill me, and I'm going to be the only 20 year old in the world who hasn't even been kissed.

Great. And the last few minutes of my life are going to be spent in agonizing pain.

Fuck.

Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

Although, Mr. Too Blue Eyes is pretty gorgeous.

Other than his… too blue eyes.

By Odin, I have got to stop rhyming.

…

Maybe if I just plant one on him…?

I'm sure it happens all the time, I mean, that face…

Yeah.

I'm gonna do it. Get in there, plant one on him, then get out before he even realized what happened.

Yup.

I'm gonna do it.

Any second now.

Any…

Fuck.

It's to weird.

I set his plate down and mumble something weird about turkeys before I realize what I've actually said, and scamper away.

That rock should have just killed me.


	3. Chapter 2

**Note: Greetings my loves, if your reading this, it means the first bit wasn't as horrendous as I originally thought. I feel the need to point out, if any grammar errors are present, it is entirely me, and feel free to blantly point it out, I'd appreciate it, and will fix anything as soon as possible.**

**Also, I have a weird tendency to change from present tense to past tense, if you notice that, please point it out, because I am trying to kick that habit, unless it's supposed to be like that, for a flash back or a review of what happened to get to the present time… and I'm rambling… sorry. Please enjoy.**

**Not a ton of dialogue, but the one after has more, I swear, and the dialogue slowly increases. **

Chapter Two: Sparks

Being stabbed with a knife is terrifying. Having the knife bend backwards as it hits your skin is much more disturbing.

Having your mugger look at you like you are a freak is even worse.

And sometimes, it makes you realize you may actually have to deal with your newfound powers.

I learned this after I tried to stop my attacker and gave him a concussion.

After leaving him close to a hospital, I quickly grabbed a cab to my apartment, where I decided to face my untested abilities.

Moose was still cowering in the corner when I arrived, and I made a mental note to take him to the vet when I came up with a good excuse for what happened to his teeth… and why I didn't bring him in sooner.

I made my way into my bedroom where I quickly grabbed my package of construction paper-because everyone just has a package laying around, my sharpie and some tacks.

First thing was first.

Learning to actually write without breaking the paper and pen.

The first try with the sharpie was okay, though it kept slipping from my fingers so I was forced to tighten my grip slightly… which resulted in a crack.

After several minutes of simply playing around with handling my sharpie, I decided it was now or never with writing.

Cautiously, and rather lightly, I managed to write in bold letters on a green piece of paper, **SUPERPOWERS. **

After several seconds of contemplation I underlined it for good measure, then quickly and carefully wrote all the powers I had discovered during the day. Granted it wasn't much, only flight, supreme senses and super-super strength, but I wasn't exactly sure that was all, so I left a bit of room at the bottom before carefully pinning it to the wall.

Only a slightly crack appeared, so I felt it necessary to congratulate myself.

After that, my "wonderwall" was coming together quite nicely. The theories of how this happened where primarily surrounded by the asteroid I was hit with, seeing as how it was the only logical explanation, though I hadn't quite ruled out the possibility of radiation or anything.

After finishing a detailed summary of everything happening to me, carefully omitting any names as I wasn't about to put anyone in danger if I was found out, I sat back on my bed.

So here I am, just staring blankly at my wonderwall while pondering the possibility of actually being found out.

Thank God my lease is till the end of next year. Otherwise I'd be fucking screwed.

Someone knocked.

That cannot be good.

I glance at my wall, covered in paper with facts and theories, then to my door. Right in front of it.

Yup.

I really need to plot these things through more.

"Oi! Petri Dish, open the door!"

Hannah.

Crap nuggets.

Maybe she won't know I'm he-

"Petri, I know your in there, I can almost hear you thinking!" Hannah calls, her voice easily carrying through my minuscule apartment.

I frown, ruling out that shred of hope and quickly and slowly make my way to the door.

"Can we just not come in here? Moose shredded a load of shit..." I trail off, holding my breath for Hannah's answer.

She doesn't disappoint. Sometimes I could kiss this girl.

"Yeah yeah, look, I'll meet you at Carlo's okay? I got a shift in half an hour, sit in my section, okay?" Hannah says, and I listen for her to get on the stairs, and only then, do I slump against the door, a sigh of relief leaving me.

Yes.

Miracles do happen.

Granted they are almost nonexistent for the most part, but on occasion juju works with me.

Not against me.

I don't like when juju works against me.

Like the meteor situation-I need to come up with a code name for that-those juju vibes where so against me until the last second.

I still need someone to blame.

My nose crinkles slightly as I realize I haven't walked Moose since yesterday, and he would need to go to the restroom soon.

With an overly exaggerated sigh, I push myself from the wall, careful not to use to much force, and quickly walk to my bedroom.

Clothes have never really been my forte, but I like to think I have some decent clothing.

Granted it never really matches, and I mostly end up resembling a wannabe Homestuck troll... Urgh, I should really stop wearing the first thing I touch.

I decide to actually look somewhat like I tried today.

Several graphic tees later, and a pair of skinny jeans and converse, I am out the door with Moose in hand.

Not literally, I don't want to blow my cover that quickly.

So technically he would be in tow.

Whatever.

The walk to Carlo's is relatively silent, and I don't really pay attention to anything that passes me by.

It's actually amazing I somehow stay updated with the happenings in the world-though that's mostly from Hannah, I gave up the Daily Planet the second Lois Lane wrote, 'Why the World Doesn't Need Superman.'

Sounded a bit like a girl who was pissed her boyfriend left on a road trip without telling her.

I don't have a T.V., obviously, I can't even afford a couch or a headboard. I have a mattress, and a thing... fuck monkeys, what is that called?

I scowl, my eyes narrowing as I try to place the name.

Then, it happens.

Again, I don't handle this situation with any grace in any shape, form or fashion.

Heat vision it turns out, causes a slight tingling/burning sensation in your eyes.

Who knew?

Superman, obviously.

I think you fully realize how insane you are when you answer your own rhetorical question.

Okay, back to heat vision.

To spare the gory and unfortunate details for the most part, I managed to not get seen, burn a hole in Moose's leash-Which allowed him to bolt off, and burn down a Daily Planet Newspaper stand.

That last one I didn't feel to bad about because Lois Lane had the main article.

Anyway.

In order to keep up appearances, I'm certain I could have caught up with him on my own, I started running after Moose, carefully not making myself fast, and yelled at him, "Moose! Moose get back here!"

Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate that animal?

Yes?

Good.

He's a worthless little shit, and Oz owes me big time.

…

You know when you are running so fast and desperately after something you almost forget where you are and your surroundings in your hope to catch whatever it is you are chasing after?

It happens way to much for me.

The resulting smack from running into a wall brings me to my senses again. What startles me the most was when the wall fell over, and I quickly realized it wasn't a wall at all, but rather a human.

I rub my head, which actually hurt slightly from the impact.

Then I look down.

I am sitting on someone.

He looked oddly familiar.

He's attractive that's for sure, with dark hair and really, really blue eyes.

Hey!

It's Too Blue Eyes, the one I was going to kiss.

I continue to stare at him in bewilderment, more so at the fact he isn't dead, as I am a carrier of insane superhuman strength.

His eyes lock with mine, and he stares at me.

Just stares.

Not the, 'Hellooooo Sexy,' but the, 'You cannot be real,' stare.

Trust me.

I know the difference, and this guy was giving me the latter.

I revert my gaze under his look and quickly stand, offering a hand to him. "Sorry!" I say, very real embarrassment coating my voice. "My dog got loose, I've been running after him the past... 6 was it? No, 5. Anyway, I've been chasing after him for awhile. Have you see him by chance? Annoying, Satanic, chocolate Labrador Retriever."

Too Blue Eyes doesn't respond.

At all.

A good five minutes pass.

So I quickly say in an attempt to get him to do anything, "My name is Petri by the way. Petri Dish, it's nice to meet you Mr...?"

He suddenly shakes his head, allowing me to pull him up with easy, and replies in slight bewilderment, "Clark Kent. My name is Clark Kent."

Then he stares some more.

This is awkward.

I fidget nervously for several minutes before breaking the silence.

"So uh, Clark, are you going to let me go so I can find my dog? Or are you planning on helping me look?"

He looks embarrassed and quickly drops my hand, before saying, "I… I can't help right now, I have work. Really, very sorry…"

He trails off, and I give a small smile, waving him off. "It's fine. No harm done, I'm sure I'll find him eventually."

I walk away after that, forcing myself not to glance back at him.

Something was really weird about that guy.

Anyone else… even if I wasn't running at a fast speed… that would have knocked them out. My weight alone and the force behind me.

He felt almost… heavy…

Don't look back.

Don't. Look. Back.

I glance back, and he's staring at me.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I speed up in my walking, and quickly turn a random corner, then slump against the wall.

Okay.

Find Moose. Ponder Clark Kent _later._

Yeah. I can do this.


	4. Chapter 3

**Note: You guys... You are amazing. Thank you so much, really. I can't even begin to say how much your reviews and favorites/alerts mean to me. **

**On another note, I don't really like this chapter, which I am terribly sorry for. To make up for it, I have high hopes to post the next one soon, but I am taking a summer class, and have school tomorrow, so it may not be up until later. **

**Really though. Thanks. :')**

Chapter Three: Shattered

I couldn't find Moose, and was forced to arrive at Carlo's empty handed, a singed leash tucked into my coat.

Wasn't sure how I would explain that one to Hannah, so hiding it was the next best option.

The second I step foot in the small café, Carlo's owner, Tabitha, or as everyone calls her Tabby, greets me.

"Hullo, Pet!" she calls warmly from behind the counter.

I walk over, giving a small smile. "Morning Tabby, can I check my email?"

She nods, and says, "Sure sure, think Oz has leave soon?"

I nod happily, temporarily forgetting Moose, "Yeah, he comes home in about 2 weeks."

"Ah, just in time too, have you gotten him a good present yet?"

I shake my head, making my way around the counter, "No, not yet. I was going to get one today, but Moose got out."

Tabby gasps, "No, Moose? I'll put up a sign in my shop, yes?"

"That'd be amazing, thank you so much Tabby," I say, hugging her briefly before going to her office.

Ever since Tabby found out I can't so much as afford a sofa, much less a computer, she has been letting me check my email on it instead of going to the library. She says I can do whatever really, as long as it isn't illegal, but I'm not a big computer person and only really use my email to talk with Oz.

Her computer is pretty old, but it works nicely, and does what I want it too, though Hannah often complains about how slow it is and tells Tabby to just get a new one.

It's fine really, just doesn't bring everything up instantly.

One new email.

Yay, it's from Oz.

Hey Tri,

Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner, we've been pretty busy. Anyway to answer your last question, I don't think it's impossible, just not likely. Mom wasn't exactly there anymore at the time of your birth, much less Blanket's.

Have you visited Dad recently? I know your angry with him, but you should at least talk to him-hear him out, okay sis?

I'll see you in a few weeks,

Oz.

I roll my eyes, he refuses to put anything before his name. Being difficult. Probably just because I scold him about it a lot.

Sighing, I quickly type out a reply, and decide to mention Moose getting out, but none of the weird things happening to me.

Though he does deserve to know about his dog.

Pressing send, I stand, turning off Tabby's computer and making a mental note to comeback later and make missing dog posters.

I then go sit in Hannah's section.

She doesn't notice me for a few minutes, but when she does comes over quickly.

"Hey, Petri, I've got break in a few minutes, I'll come sit with you then. You want anything?"

I shake my head, not in the mood for coffee.

Hannah walks away, humming a random ass tune that vaguely reminds me of something from Disney.

Then of course, I feel utterly possessed to start mumbling quietly, "I'm too cool for my dress, the shades don't leave my head, everything you say is so irrelevant… something something… I'm too cool to know you… and some other shitty lyrics I don't fucking know. Me, myself and I agree, you'll never catch up to me, I'm too cool for you."

I glance up, only to see a lady with her very young daughter glaring at me.

I look from mother to daughter, and back again, then hold my hands up and shrug, before giving the best shit-eating grin I can muster up, and stating in a dead serious tone, "These fucking songs nowadays, the shit they play…"

She continues to glare venomously at me. I frown, and state dryly, "Look, lady, if your going to be such a prude, the likelihood of your daughter coming out even more fucked up than I am is going up each time you scold me for cussing."

She scowls at me, and snarks, "I bet your mother is so proud of you,"

I roll my eyes and reply, "Completely. She's so fucking proud of me. Taught me everything I know."

She scoffs and storms away, her daughter in tow. I smirk at the little girl, and mouth, "You'll be fine!"

Her eyes widen and she quickly turns, walking beside her mom once again.

I lean back in my chair.

I am a terrible person.

Oh well.

It can only get worse from here.

…

Wait.

That isn't right is it?

…

Whatever, I'll ask Hannah later.

A good ten minutes later Hannah sat down next to me.

She glares at me, and I raise an eyebrow in attempt to look innocent before asking sweetly, "Yes?"

"Cut the bullshit, you lost Moose?" she demands angrily.

Oh shit, forgot about that actually.

For whatever the reason, Moose and Hannah may as well be best friends forever. Seriously, I sometimes think that dog has a crush on her.

I try to shrug as nonchalantly as possible, earning an irritated huff from Hannah, who mumbles bitterly, "Bitch."

My eyes narrow, and I slap the back of her head. "Fuckass."

"I cannot believe you lost Moose, Oz is going to kill you, ya know? That was the last thing Eric-"

I cut her off, standing before she can finish and biting dangerously, "Don't you dare pull that card with me. Don't…" I close my eyes, rubbing my temples before continuing, "don't talk about something when you have no idea."

Hannah frowns, glaring at me. "I do know actually, incase you don't remember, Oz told me everything."

I shake my head at her, falling back in my seat. "No he didn't," I say, all the fight leaving me. "He didn't tell you anything. Not really."

Hannah exhales, and replies slowly, cautiously, "I know about Eric, why your dad killed him, and why your mom lost it."

I look up at her in challenge. She trolls on, her voice quiet, yet easy to hear. "Your dad, he killed Eric because he was convinced that it was his fault your mom was losing it. Your mom was raped, and you guys still aren't sure who Blanket's father is. That about covers it. Am I right?"

No.

Not even close, I want to say. I want to scream at her, tell her the truth. But the lie is better. The lie is easier.

So I nod weakly. "Yeah, that it."

Hannah stands abruptly, snarling, "See, you think you know everything, you're the only one, you have no fucking idea about Oz and me."

She storms away, causing several heads to glance between us in confusion before going back to their coffee and previous conversations.

…

My apartment is annoyingly empty when I arrive, and the startling realization that I actually miss the damn dog is more bothersome than I would have originally presumed.

The edge from my fight with Hannah is wearing off, leaving me feeling slightly drained and tired.

I plop down on my bed-if it could even be called that, and choose to contemplate the recent developments in life.

It's around this time that thoughts of Clark Kent come to mind.

I suppose I should have considered it more later, the fact that maybe I wasn't the only one affected by thee meteor shower… or whatever.

Maybe that's why he was staring at me like I was a miracle.

I decide then that I really need to think things through more.

With a sigh, I make a mental note to investigate him later, as I grab a lovely shade of purple paper and write in my nicest cursive, _Clark Kent,_ in the center.

I put that up in the center of my wall.

"And after all… you're my wonderwall…" I mumble, glancing out my window.

The sky is grey, cloudy, and all around dark.

Hannah needs to know. She deserves to know.

I lay back down on my bed, taking off my pants, shoes and bra, before crawling back under the fuzzy blanket.

After it rains.

I'll tell her after it rains.

…

The sound of barking wakes me up, followed by a clap of thunder, I instantly realize in my groggy state that it's Moose, probably hiding in the bathroom, quaking with fear.

I sit up, my eyes wide.

Moose.

"Moose!" I call out, and quickly run through my house, trying to locate the dog.

He isn't there. I make my way back to my bedroom, sitting on my bed before trying to focus on the sound.

It's coming from outside.

I run to the doors, and gasp in shock at the sight of a very, very wet Moose, tied to my balcony railing with a note written on his collar.

I untie the leash and snag the note as he trots inside the house, quickly going to my bed, and drenching it.

Your dog is awful-S.

I frown, unable to place who I know with a name starting with an 'S', Sylvia Chambers comes to mind, but I haven't seen her since High School.

I shrug it off, instead choosing to pet Moose gingerly and planning my next email to Oz. My thoughts only stray to Clark Kent once or twice during that time.

…

I was walking, the soft earth beneath my feet was almost comforting, the sun was dim, not bright as it should have been, and it wasn't night.

Daytime.

The clouds had a twinge of pink, so faint it was barely noticeable.

The sky was grey, almost washed out, sad looking.

The rain was green.

Large, neon drops fell from the sky, hitting everything except for a dirt path. I stepped onto it, following it slowly, deliberately hoping to not reach my destination.

I was scared.

This was wrong.

"I see you've finally arrived, Petri."

No.

I turn, looking on in horror as Eric's head rolls off, blood gushing from his neck.

I drop to my knees.

I can't breathe.

…

My eyes fly open, and I continue to struggle for breath.

Where is my inhaler?

I can't breathe.

Panic floods me at the realization the last time I actually remember seeing my inhaler since I moved in 2 years ago.

I drop to my knees, forcing myself to take slow breaths in attempt to regulate my breathing and calm down.

I'm breathing thorough a straw.

Finally, after a decent 20 minutes, it begins to lessen, though it still hurts, a glance at my clock reveals it's 7:30, and a decent time to actually be awake.

When my breathing begins to regulate slightly, I decide today is the day I am going to tell Hannah, she needs to know.


	5. Chapter 4

**Note: I finished early so as promised:)The prologue catches up, and Superman is revealed to the world once more.**

**Throwing pistachios is something my family has said for the longest time for those who have never heard it. It basically means if you are embarrassing yourself, they'll try to get you to stop.**

**I couldn't for the life of me remember any human prison names in the Superman comics, seeing as I haven't read/touched since I was like 7 and discovered the wonders of Superhero movies. So used one form California, because all the ones in Texas sound kinda like a mental institution.**

Chapter Five: Nobody

You know that soul sucking feeling you get when you watch your best friend easily be flirted with while your sitting in the background awkwardly, just waiting for her to actually look over see you, and walk over?

Yeah.

Then, when she sees you, instead decides to simply continue flirting, never mind that you're here to apologize and explain why you've been so weird lately.

I guess I shouldn't be one to complain…

But holy dammit, what is it with her that draws in everyone like moths to a flame?

Granted it's amusing considering Hannah has been pining after Oz since we where kids.

Maybe I should have gotten pistachios or something to throw at her. I mean, I'm pretty sure the only one she is fooling is that idiot.

Okay fine.

He's a cute idiot, but that is completely beside the point.

Damn him for being so cute-it makes it harder to hate him.

But that face-No. Fuckballs. I have got to stop doing this to myself.

I will not acknowledge the cute factor on this guy.

Besides, he looks nowhere near as attractive as Clark does.

What? Why am I think about Clark Kent now? And when did he become just Clark?

That's it, I am now calling him Kent. I refuse to even say/think Cl-that other thing.

Hannah continues to flirt with Cutie, glancing over at me on occasion, and despite my better judgment I wave her over.

A scowl on her face, she quickly excuses herself and gives me and absolutely poisonous glare.

I am going to die.

Flashing back to the not so bite Moose gave me the mugger incident, I dismiss that thought as utterly irrational for the time being.

I'm sure Hannah will find some absurd weakness and exploit it.

She pauses in front of me, crossing her arms over her chest and demanding dryly, "What do you want?"

I sigh.

This was going to be a pain in the ass, wasn't it?

"We need to talk," I say, standing from my chair quickly. "Meet me on the roof."

…

Standing at the edge of the building was surprisingly much more intimidating than I had originally predicted it would be. My shortly chopped hair blew into my face, making it hard to see, and ruffled my clothes. I was high. Really high. 7 stories high, and was beginning to seriously regret whatever it was I had even considered doing.

I can fly. At least, I sincerely hope I can.

Now, standing on the ledge, this is beginning to look like a really stupid idea, and the chance of me simply dreaming that I could fly was a very real possibility. I don't want to die, and I'm pretty hopeful that Hannah feels the same way. Had this been 5 years ago when Superman was still hanging around, I might have given it a shot. Then again, 5 years ago, I was an idiot 19 year old who was convinced she was invincible.

I can tell by Hannah's face she is beginning to regret this with each passing minute I stand up here.

Because that means I'm more likely to talk myself up and jump.

Hannah, while sometimes annoying and bit of a bitch, is my best friend, and thinks she understands why I am so fucked up.

"O-Okay, look you don't have to do this, Petri, I believe you, alright?" Hannah shouts suddenly, her voice filled with underlying and well hidden fear.

I nod, turning slowly and sending a wicked grin at Hannah. "Does this mean-" my sentence is never finished, because suddenly, I am falling backwards. A scream rips through the air, Hannah, and she runs forward, her arm outstretched in an attempt to reach me.

I think in that second it first occurred to me how blue the sky was, and how beautiful it was, the clouds, such an oddly stark comparison against it... even if the blue itself was so light.

The wind stops rushing, and Hannah's screams catch in her throat.

It took me a moment, but when I spared a glance down, and the ground wasn't rushing towards me, I realized it had happened again.

My eyes lock with Hannah's, and I squeak nervously, "Told you I could fly..."

Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes widen almost comically. She waves her hand out frantically, signaling silently for me to grab onto it. I take it, careful not to crush her with my strength, and allow her to gingerly pull me forward. The second my feet touch the ground, she lets go and stares at me in horror before finally catching up to her thoughts and asking quietly, "How long?"

"Since Monday."

She nods weakly, mumbling quietly, "Only a few days then. Is that why you where acting hungover at the Diner?"

"Yeah."

She lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples before asking, "Can you do anything else?"

I give her a weak smile, and offer my hand saying, "You have no idea."

…

Hannah stared at my wall, giving me a raised eyebrow at Kent's name scrawled in the middle, to which I merely shook my head.

"So um… meteor shower? The same day Superman is supposed to have come back?"

Wait.

Superman is back?

Flying fuck-nuggets, when did this happen?

At my incredulous stare, Hannah choose to elaborate. "Superman? He literally just revealed himself again this morning. How could you possibly have missed this? He has an interview with Lois Lane and everything."

What.

My eyes narrow, and I wave my hand, signaling for her to continue. "It was on the T.V., like every channel."

My nose crinkles and I gesture around my apartment. Hannah stifles a giggle, instead releasing a very un-ladylike snort.

"Of course you wouldn't notice Petri…" she trails off, her eyes widening suddenly and she drops to her knees, yelling happily, "Moose!"

Said hellhound instantly runs into her open arms, and I roll my eyes at the annoying display. Leave it to Moose to ruin a moment.

I take it back.

He should have stayed missing.

"When did you find him?" Hannah asks cheerfully, petting him.

A beat. "I didn't."

Hannah's movements stop, and she gives me a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I found him tied to my balcony railing, with a note wrapped on his collar."

"A note?"

"No, a pencil. What did I just say?"

Hannah scowls at me. "Show it to me."

Grumbling, I reach into my pocket, and hand it to her.

"Who is 'S'?"

I shrug, replying sarcastically, "Superman, obviously."

We both pause, looking up and locking eyes. "You don't think-" I begin.

"I do."

I let out a shocked laugh. "Superman brought my dog home."

"Superman knows where you live!" Hannah says, falling into a fit of her own breathless giggles.

I stop laughing, considering it a moment. "How did 'Superman' know Moose belonged to me?"

Hannah seemed to consider this for a moment before whispering, "Maybe he saw you chasing after Moose and decided to help?"

I nod, though I don't think that's what happened and can tell Hannah feels the same.

I lose myself in my thoughts, Moose following Hannah. "Good luck P," I turn, glancing at Hannah and giving her a half hearted wave goodbye.

"Yeah," then add as an after thought, "Tell Oz I found Moose, will you? Don't mention the note or anything, I don't want him to know."

"Sure thing, P."

…

Superman.

Is.

Ever_ywhere_.

Okay, not literally, but now that I am actually paying attention to my surroundings instead of struggling for breath, searching for Moose, or moping at the argument between Hannah and myself.

It's literally all people are talking about, how gorgeous he is, how wonderful he is, oh, and he supposedly came back to Earth in that meteor shower.

I stop walking.

No.

No fucking way.

...

My fists clench together, and I grinding my teeth.

So Superman, eh?

It was him.

Superman. It was his fault.

"Thanks for ruining my life," I mumble, looking up at the sky.

The sky is slightly grey, and the wind is almost crisper than usual.

Probably will rain later.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the sky, being walked around.

When the first drop of rain hit my face I had made up my mind on several things.

1) Clark Kent was either affected by the meteor shower, is Superman, or had some previous affiliation with a radioactive substance that gave him superhuman strength.

2) I needed to get my powers under better control before I accidentally reveal myself to the world.

And 3) I need to talk to my dad.

Then I flag a cab down and told them to go to Avenal State Prison.

…

Seeing my Dad was weird.

It was even more bizarre when he through his arms and shouted to me happily, "Petri Florescent!"

My eye twitched slightly at the use of my God-forsaken first name.

It is a good thing my Mother lost her marbles and wasn't just being mean.

I had a relatively rough childhood and decided to choose the lesser of two poisons and simply go by Petri. Besides, Flo is just...

Not my thing.

Besides, wasn't that little bird-thing from the Land Before Time named Petri or something?

Or was it Dmitri?

Whatever, it had Tri at the end and I thought I was the shit for having the same name.

So, here I am, awkwardly sitting with my dad.

He looks different, a spider web prison tattoo scrawled messily onto his elbow, on his right wrist a date scratched out.

Realization. "That's the day I was born."

He looks down at it, smiling slightly, "Yeah. I got one for Ozzy and Eric too."

I don't respond after that.

"I didn't kill him, Petri. I swear it. I was at work, I swear it. I would never have killed Eric."

I want to believe him.

I really do, but the last time I did it turned out to be a lie.

I stand, my chair screeching against the smooth floor. "I have to go. Coming here was a mistake."

He grabs my arm as I turn to leave. "I'm sorry Petri. I'm sorry that I fucked up your life so much. Will… will you come back one day?"

I nod, slowly, and whisper. "Not right now. I can't right now."

He releases my arm, though that may have been because of the cop giving him a warning look. "I'll be waiting."


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: Sorry this didn't come out yesterday like planned. My computer is being a jerk. A flashback was requested, so I give you part. It will be eventually revealed though. I don't like the last bit, sorry, I may go back and fix it one day, but it was important. Besides, by no means is Petri stupid.**

**Unmotivated, yes. Stupid, no.**

Chapter Six: Monster

"Run. Run, he's catching up!" Eric screamed, a trail of blood rolling down the side of his face.

I stared at him blankly, my eyes wide as he ran towards me, grabbing my hand as he passed and forcefully pulling me along. The man doesn't stop chasing us, and I don't get a good look at his face, but I can tell his hair and eyes are dark .

A sadistic laugh curls from his lips, as he yelled, "Run little girl, or clowns will catch you…"

Then, I am flying, my back hitting the concrete and sufficiently knocking the breath out of me. Oz then, he yells at me, screaming at me to run and taking my hand, not noticing Eric stumble and fall until I tell him to go back and help him.

Oz paused, turning and looking at Eric, he started to move back, but Eric shook his head and shouted, "Go! Run! Don't let them hut Petri!"

Oz hid me behind a trashcan, and told me to stay there until he came back, and to scream if anyone else came and got me.

When the screams started I put my hands over my ears, and started singing the song my mom always sang to me after a bad dream.

It didn't do much to block to sound and I settled for crying quietly instead.

…

I wake with a gasp, thankfully managing to not have an asthma attack this time. Moose cuddles up against me, and it's time like this I can actually stand the damn dog.

Slowly, and reluctantly, I drift back to sleep, thankfully with no more nightmares.

…

At exactly 7:30, my alarm clock went off. Temporarily forgetting about my strength, I smashed not only the alarm, but my side table.

Of course. Another thing I will need to replace.

With an overly exaggerated sigh, I force myself from the mattress, causing moose to yelp in complain-dumb dog. I dress slowly, opting to put on my uniform instead of everyday clothes seeing as I would have to make an appearance at work today.

…

Hannah's apartment was relatively empty when I got there,-I'm not exactly sure why this surprised me- though all her decorations where up. Honestly, that girl can party.

Then again, I can't so I suppose someone has to makeup for the fact I hate all social gatherings. Yeah, for the most part I find all parties utterly annoying and too loud for the most part, and I'd hate to see how it would be now with my marvelous super hearing.

Hannah was nowhere in sight, though I do find a note from her, claiming to have run to the store for some last minute supplies, she also warns me not to even look in the kitchen, because I will surely break something, if not everything.

I scoff at that, before plopping down on her couch-resulting in a very suspicious creek I choose to ignore and grab the remote… promptly crushing it in my hands.

Woops.

I choose to lay on the couch until Hannah comes home and forces me to leave for work-I do have a double shift today anyway.

….

The bus ride goes quickly, and I am half tempted to try my hand at running to work again, though am quickly reminded of the incident that follows last time I tried that.

I still feel bad abut Hannah's car.

My arrival is dull, and I quickly take the orders in my section, and manage to keep a neutral expression when Clark Kent and a few other people walk in and sit in my section.

I don't exactly know what or how I am supposed to act. Sure, we introduced ourselves, but haven't exactly seen each other since then, and I have a half-assed theory about him being Superman or an something.

It's only when he gives me a smile and a half wave to I return to gesture and walk over, mumbling something akin to a 'hello'.

"Hi, my name is Petri, I'll be your waitress, what would you like to drink?"

One man with the small group gives what I assume to be his interpretation of a charming smile, though it looks more like a grimace than anything. "Pepsi please, Petri."

I hate him instantly.

The other guy, the one who didn't look like he was desperate to crawl into my pants (but to be fair Clark wasn't either, and had thankfully stopped staring at me like I was the Messiah.) and says, "I'd like a coke please, thank you."

I nod, he won't get spit in his food, then turn to Clark. "So, Kent, what will it be?"

He looks vaguely surprised at the use of his name, and I mentally congratulate myself for not calling him by his first name… forgot I had sworn that off. He plays it off well though, and simply asks for a water.

My eyes narrow, and I crinkle my nose at him, stating dryly, "Water tastes funny."

He laughs and shakes his head. "I suppose so-hey, did you find your dog by chance?"

I let out a melodramatic sigh, and deadpan, "Unfortunately."

"You don't like him very much?" a smirk.

I open my mouth to respond, but an interrupted by the first fuckass clearing his throat pointedly.

I roll my eyes, saying to Clark as I walk away, "That dog I the incarnation of Satan himself."

Clark's laughter follows me as I leave. Like someone laughing at an inside joke. In that moment, my suspicion of him being Superman doubles.

…

Work.

Urgh.

After Clark left it remained pretty uninteresting, and my night went by in a haze. Oliver also left early and told me to close up.

Lazy ass.

Six o'clock doesn't come soon enough, and right as I am putting away the last customer's dishes, the bell on the door chimes. "Sorry, we're closing!" I call over my shoulder, not even bothering to turn and see them.

"Oh, I'm not exactly looking to buy anything…"

Confusion colors my voice, and I turn quickly, trying to figure out what they meant. "Look, I don't know what your on abo-"

I cut myself off.

Before me stands a pathetically thin kid, face covered in acne and an overall appearance proving that for some people, life does not get better after school.

I resist the urge to laugh as he holds his hand up, his fingers forming a 'gun', and what I assume to be his attempt at an aggressive face.

I promptly burst into a fit of giggles.

Then, a searing hot pain bursts through my stomach, and I am soaring backwards.

I crash into the kitchen, glancing down at my stomach in horror. Red, hot sticky blood gushes from the wound, a green jagged rock protruding from it.

My breathing becomes labored, and blood drips from the corners of my mouth.

I can't breathe.

I look up, mustering up my best glare at the kid. A defeated look crosses his face, and he asks disappointedly, "Why didn't it react the same as it did with me?"

I cough, blood splattering onto his shirt and face.

He brings a hand to my cheek, caressing it as best he could despite my efforts to pull away. "We could have ruled Metropolis together. Shame really, you would have been my queen."

The Hell?

What is this lunatic on about?

Rule Metropolis? Why the spit-fuck would anybody be stupid enough to try that-I mean, hello, Superman sort of protects this city.

What an idiot.

I resist the urge to snort, and instead look at him with wide eyes.

He leaves after that, and I force myself into a sitting position, ignoring the blinding pain in my stomach and stumble through the doors.

It couldn't end like this.

It _shouldn't_.

It should not be quiet. Should not be as simple as being robbed and discarded to bleed to death in an alley.

My life.

Everything was going to end-all because some lunatic came in, and stabbed me with a green rock.

That is what the end of my life is for, something so utterly useless.

I continue to gasp for air, trying not to choke on my own blood. _I don't want to die, _I think, trying not to slump against the wall any further and thus causing myself more pain.

It rains.

Not a soft drizzle like it has been for the past few days, but like the night Moose showed up on my balcony

It pours.

Complete and utter downpour.

Despite my current situation, I let a grin show on my face, holding my hand out to catch the water droplets as I lean against the alley wall, my blood pooling around me.

Ironic.

I always hated the rain.

It reminds me of death.

I let out a hoarse bark of a laugh. It rained the day Eric was murdered.

Only fitting it rained for me too.

My tears mingle with the rain, and for once, I am thankful for it. When they found my body, it wouldn't be to obvious for everyone that I was in pain.

The cold begins to seep in, and I shiver, my teeth chattering.

I was going to die, and I was going to be all alone.

My eyes droop, and I vaguely register the sound of talking form the front of the alley. I lean forward as much as possible, sticking my hand out and pleading as loudly as my voice would let me, "Help me…"

…

I drift in and out of consciousness for the next several hours, and the first thing I really remember is a pair of blue eyes staring at me.

He picks me up, clutching my tightly to his body, protectively but not enough to cause me actual pain, and mumbles comforting words in my ear-though I don't really hear them.

It's a blur of nothing for awhile after that, almost a haze of blue- red and a blinding pain, and I'm glad I don't remember most of it.

The clearest part of the whole night was ironically laying on a kitchen table, a frantic woman yelling, and two men bickering in the background. I force my eyes open, and just stare at the woman, she freezes in her movements, and returns my gaze, whispering fearfully, "C-Clark…"

My eyes lock with that of Clark Kent's, and the connection is made.

"H-Holy sh-" the pain becomes to intense and I don't wake up for the rest of the night after that.

…

I wake up in my apartment with a gasp, frantically struggling for air. I look around in horror, only to realize I am back in my apartment and in a pair of pajamas, Moose nowhere in sight.

When my breathing finally calms down I allow myself to fall back asleep.

I dream of Superman.


	7. Chapter 6

**Note: As of now, at the beginning when she wakes up, Petri thinks the following chapter's events was a dream. Sorry it is so short, my computer deleted the original copy-that's why I took so long. It should have been out 2 days ago, but I was moping for a day and finally finished it just now.**

Chapter Seven: Conversations

The following morning I wake up slowly, and am rather annoyed at the spike of pain in my stomach, though quickly dismiss it as cramps seeing as how it is closer to that time of the month.

I stumble into the bathroom, hands pressed lightly on my belly in attempt to lessen the pain. It doesn't really work, but I manage to stumble into the bathroom without falling.

I lean against the sink, carefully peeling of my clothes, I scowl when I realize I am not on my period, so slowly lift up my shirt, the dream from last night ringing in my mind.

I couldn't tell for the most part, half due to the bandages wrapped tightly around my torso, just to under my breasts.

Thankfully, it hadn't bled through yet, though I was certain I would have to change it eventually.

That brought up the other issue.

Superman saved me.

I decided to hate Superman.

It was his fault this was happening to me anyway, though I found myself feeling slightly thankfully and quickly squashed that emotion as quickly as possible.

I simply refuse to be thankful to him when it was his fault I ended up cursed like this anyway.

Then there is the issue that I know his secret identity.

Clark Kent, is Superman.

And I know.

I am so updating my wonderwall.

Fuck.

I sound like one of those girls constantly on twitter, 'OMG, like I totally have to like, tell everyone that I am eating broccoli!'

Nobody gives a fuck.

Though I am relatively certain that this will bite me in the ass in the long run, I decide to write in big letters under Clark's name, **SUPERMAN**.

Put that in your juice pouch and suck it, Clark Kent.

…

A tapping on my balcony door drew me from my thoughts.

What the fuck?

Who is on my balcony?

I stand, walking to it with a slight discomfort due to the piercing pain in my stomach.

I freeze when I see him.

Leaning-quite casually if I may say-is Superman, on the thin railing.

I almost tell him not to do that, seeing as he could fall before it actually occurs to who it is.

So I stare at him.

Rather blankly for several minutes.

It half occurs to me in my bewildered haze that Oz would be coming home tomorrow.

For a second, I choose to simply focus on that thought instead of the fact that Superman was sitting on my balcony.

Then I decide it's time to focus and figure out how to get him to leave, seeing as how I have high hopes of him not knowing that I know his secret identity. Clark Kent. Superman.

Same person.

Honestly, I was blazingly obvious now that I actually considered it. Clark Kent and Superman both had the same annoyingly blue eyes, and deep baritone voice.

He has a marvelous voice, and as Hannah would probably categorize in 'Liquid Sex' column as number 1.

Focus Petri. You can fantasize about him later, but now, it's much more vital that you get him out, and as far away from your apartment.

Taking a deep breath, I push open my balcony doors, my arms crossing over my chest and demand, "What?"

He smirks at me, everything about him oddly different than his 'alter-ego'. He stands tall, and not slightly hunched or nervous.

He isn't scared of me, and has an utterly stern look in his eyes.

It oddly reminds me of Oz's superior officer I once had the misfortune of meeting.

"So, who names their kid 'Petri Dish'?" he begins, his voice almost an amused drawl. I know he is waiting for me to either crack and tell him I know about him or take the bait and eventually admit it.

Instead, I decide to scare him off by cutting dryly, "A murderer and a lunatic."

He lets that subject drop with a wince, and that's when I begin to realize it is still Clark.

I relax a little, continuously repeating to myself that he probably can't hurt me to badly anyhow.

He cut to the chase seeing as how I would have been fine with remaining silent. "You know."

It wasn't a question, and did exactly what he intended by severely unnerving me.

Say what you want, but Superman is one scary ass guy when he wants to be.

Still. I'm more scared of what happens when I admit to knowing than being caught in a blant lie.

I deny it as eloquently as I can manage.

He gives me an incredulous look, sighing slightly before replying, "I'm sure."

I nod, plastering a way to fake smile on my face.

"Yup. You should be. 'Cause you know why? I have no idea what you are talking about."

It sounds fake even to me.

It is probably around this time I realize I am a horrible liar.

There goes my plans of being a Super villain.

...

Actually that probably wouldn't work well seeing as how the good guy still intimidates the fuck out of me.

I really hope he doesn't eat me.

Because that would be cannibalism.

Wait.

Oh. Shit.

I forgot.

He's an alien.

What do aliens eat?

Aliens can't eat humans can they?

I start getting vivid flashbacks to all the alien-takes-over-earth movies I have watched.

I'm going to die.

He starts to say something, probably an inquiry about my sanity but I cut him off, blurting out without actually realizing what I am saying, "Please don't eat me."

He gives me a weird look. "Why would I eat you?" he sounds more like Clark there.

"U-Uh...um..." I stutter. I never stutter. It's gotten bad. "You're hungry?" I provide weakly, which results in a fit of laughter from Clark-Superman-WHATEVER.

Finally, his laughter subsides, and he manages to compose himself before saying with a goofy grin on his face, "Are you going to let me in or not, Petri?"

He needs to be invited in?

That's new.

I scratch my head in bemusement. "So you are like a vampire? You need to be invited in?"

He stares at me. No laughter. Nothing.

I shift nervously, which seems to bring him out of his stooper. He pats my head lightly and mumbles something to low for me to hear.

I think it's bad.

Whatever he mumbled that is.

"You can't come in." I state as he tried to move past me.

He raises an eyebrow in question.

"It's a complete mess. Seriously. Haven't even considered cleaning in weeks. Really embarrassing to admit even."

My lie comes out easier this time, but I still stumble and completely butcher my chosen words as they fling from my mouth.

He grins shaking his head slightly he states in amusement, "I can see through walls, Petri."

That baffles me and whatever I was about to say dies on my lips.

I am way to pissed off I can't do that ten anything else.

How fucked up can the world be?

"You can see through walls?" I demand incredulously. "That's not fair! Why can't I do that?"

The last sentences out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I fling my hands over my mouth.

He chuckles slightly, grabbing one of my hands and saying, "I know Petri. It's okay. I Followed you a few days after you ran into me."

I still couldn't bring myself to admit it, so asked dumbly, "What are you talking about?"

He drops my hand with a sigh, floating above the ground slightly as he says, "Look, when you want to really talk, and get some answers for that matter, you know how to find me."

I do?

Without another word he flies away.

Thank God, he finally left.

It's only as he is disappearing from sight do I realize he said he could see through things.

He was hinting.

And I missed it.

Fuckass saw right through my walls.

Damn it, now he knows for certain I know, cocky bastard. That's why he was acting so arrogant.

Fantastic, now he will never leave me alone.


	8. Chapter 7

**Note: This damn chapter has been deleted seven fucking times already. I have written this, seven times. That is why it is absolute shit. The first was gold, the second was silver, and the third was bronze. Shall I continue?**

**To compensate for my hatred of this happening, I've been reading buckets of my OTP to feel better.**

**Nothing like Spillow feels to motivate me. This shouldn't happen again because I got a new computer.**

Chapter Seven: Preggers

The doorbell rings, and I make my way over, ready to take my anger out on the poor fucker behind it, when a familiar flash of red hair catches my attention.

Oz.

He isn't supposed to be home.

Clark.

That bitch. He left because he knew Oz was here.

I make a mental note to tear him a new one next time I see him.

Oz falters when he sees me, his mouth dropping open before his cheeks flare an unflattering red. Vaguely, he reminds me of Ronald Weasley whenever he gets angry.

I frown at him, before sputtering incredulously, "What are you doing here?"

Oz gives me his most penetrating stare before asking slowly, his voice deadly calm, "Where were you?"

The clogs begin to turn in my mind as my stomach gives a faint throb.

I was out for days...

Oops.

My eyes grow wide-comically so, I imagine, as I babble. "Uh-um, you know..." I glance around the room, my eyes landing on a snow-globe from when I was a kid and before I can stop myself, the words are pouring from my lips, "Louisiana."

"Louisiana." Oz repeats dryly, clearly not believing me.

As he shouldn't. It is obviously bullshit.

But he doesn't know that.

Damn him.

"Yup. Louisiana. Don't ask me why I was there though... can't tell you that."

You know that voice, in your head, that tells you to quit while you are ahead?

Yeah. I don't have one.

"You're pregnant aren't you?" Oz asks.

"Yes."

...

Wait.

That doesn't sound right.

I shake my head, "No! Fuck! Wait, I mean no!"

It's too late. Oz is already demanding who the father is and lecturing me about how I can barely afford to pay my bills.

I feel like I walked into this one.

I finally managed to convince Oz I wasn't pregnant, and managed to get him to leave with the excuse of an explanation at a later date and that I would be late going to my job.

It was a pile of bullshit, obviously, since I learned via message from Hannah to Oz I ha been fired from work.

So I would be looking for a new job, thankfully to feed myself and not Satan's spawn.

I decide wandering the streets of Metropolis was my best bet, and would hopefully lead me to actually figuring out how I 'knew' how to contact Superman.

I still am not exactly sure what to refer to him. On one hand, Clark seems to personal, and I might slip up and call him that while he is Superman.

It's really creepy how he slips between personas so easily.

Clark is a nice country boy-from where is undetermined, though I am certain it's Kansas.

Superman is a hero. Abet a fucking scary one, but still a good guy.

It still bugs me that he is an alien.

I really should figure out how to contact him...

I then turn and look at my wonderwall.

It had to go.

Slightly saddened by the fact, I pause briefly in front of it, before ripping off the info I had posted there.

Shredded on the floor, it finally seemed to hit me how wrong everything in my life was.

I drop to my knees, staring at the discarded construction paper scattered on the floor. My heart breaks slightly as I finally except I have no chance of leading a normal life.

I could barely hold a pen without snapping it in half-much less offer a hug to my friends.

I doubted I could even kiss someone without dire consequences, my control isn't strong enough.

Fuck my life.

I need to speak with Kent.

Like any confused girl trying to contact a superhero, I decided to go with the obvious choice.

I am starting to really think I need to work on my impulsiveness.

As I have begun to realize, my intelligence, while seemingly fully intact, sometimes lacks on the most momentous and important occasions.

That being said, robbing a bank, was not one of my brightest ideas.

To my defense, it was the only thing other than finding myself in the midst of being in a bank robbery myself.

Besides. I wasn't hurting anyone, and I gave the money back.

Some clarification seems slightly called for.

My original plan had been to throw myself off a building, or scream bloody murder until he showed up. That didn't work, and resulted in a shoe being thrown at me. So I quickly developed the idea of being the bad guy instead of the helpless victim.

I suck at being a victim.

Except for when psychopaths stab me with green-space-rock-thing...s.

Anyway, I like to think, I went about this in an elegant manner, but now, as Clark sits across form me, glaring daggers, I'm having serious second thoughts about this whole ordeal.

"So let me get this straight, you wanted me to simply live my life as normally as I could?" a nod, and I take that as my cue to prattle on. "And now I've sufficiently fucked myself over because the world now knows there is another person with superpowers lurking around?"

He heaves a sigh, "Pretty much."

I bang my head on the counter, resulting in a sickening crunch that makes both Clark and myself wince.

I glance up, running my fingers lightly along the crack before turning my gaze back to Superman and asking weakly, "So what's next?"


	9. Chapter 8

**Note: Everything I touch dies. Everything I put in the ground withers and dies. **

**Oh Buddha. I feel like Drusilla. In a dreamy British accent, "Do you like daisies? I like daisies. But every time I plant them, they wither and die. Everything I put in the ground dies!"**

**I actually like Spike/Drusilla. Spillow kicks ass though, fuck Spuffy. Buffy is a bitch past high school. **

Chapter Eight: Work

Due to the remarkably annoying and somewhat hissy fit that seemed to be follow me in my wake, Superman-Clark, fuck it, whatever-decided that returning to my aprtment was my best bet.

Of course, Hannah was waiting for me, with Moose.

And here I thought the glob of fuzz and shit was out of my life until further notice.

Clark opted to akwardly stad behind me-I silently thanked every God(dess) I could think of that he wasn't currently dressed as Superman.

"What could you possibly want?" I snap.

Sure, it was a bit uncalled for, but to my defence, Hannah has been a piece of shit friend, and I personally think that her not covering for me in the slightest with Oz was completely uncalled for.

Seriously, it's not everyday you tell someone you can fly before falling off a building.

Hannah, in her usually slutty fashion, twirls a strand of hair between her fingers, and slanters her way to Clark, casually resting a hand on his forearm before asking in a husky tone, "Who's your friend, Petri?"

Every fucking time.

The look of absoulte shock on Clark's face cheers me up slightly, and gives me enough backbone to retort dryly, "Superman."

The look Clark gives me is akin to horror mixed with sheer shock and rage. Bascially he looks apalled. I shoot him a look, and thankfully Hannah doesn't notice our exchange, because she rolls her eyes, leaving Clark's side before moving gracefully back to Moose, shaking her hips a bit more than necessary.

I think wanting to rip your best friend's throat out is a good reason for therapy.

Clark seems baffled, and I wave him off in an, 'I'll-tell-you-later,' gesture.

"Oz sent me. Wanted to make sure you wouldn't shrink on your responsibilities again." with a pointed glare, she reaches down and scrathes behind Moose's ear. I swear the bastard had a smug smile on behind his furry-face. "Anyway, now that I realize I seem to be interupting something... I guess I can tell Oz who your baby's daddy is."

I never thought I would witness the pleasure of seeing Superman blanch.

It was wonderful.

...

After finally getting Hannah to leave-thankfully with Satan's spawn, Clark cornered me, demanding in his scrariest tone, "You're pregnant?"

I swear I almost piss myself. Shaking my head, I let out a nervous giggle before replying, "No, I'm not. And I may have accidentally told Oz I am... now he is convinced, or is searching for something equally as terrible."

Clark frowns slightly, his voice softer as he asks, "You don't want kids?"

I avert my eyes, looking pointedly at my wonderwal scattered on the floorl behind him, glad Hannah hadn't come in. I walk by him, playfully bumping his shoulder while gesturing to the wall, "C'mon, let's toss this out. It's fucked me over enough as it is."

He grabs my arm, preventing me from going any further. "If there is one person you could tell anything too, it would probably be me."

I am silent for awhile, and he seems to think I plan on ignoring him, so he lets me go, moving towards th wall to take it down, when I say quietly, "And I think that's what scares me so much."

He freezes for the slightest second, the only indication he heard me before resuming his task.

Suddenly I am happy for Clark's sometimes shy and akward mannerisms. He knows when to let things go.

I finally managed to convince Clark to leave, using the famous, 'lady problem' excuse, though he forced a pair of derp-y nerd glasses on me before leaving.

Whatever.

Though I'm not even sure I can have a period anymore or something. Since spacerock incident, I haven't had my monthly gush.

And yet, another reason why children are not in my current future.

Huh.

Do I get an extended lifespan of something?

I mean, since his whole, vanishing for 5 years act, Clark hasn't aged a day.

Well, he has, but metaphorically speaking.

Is that a metaphor?

Yeah... I think it is.

...

The next few days are a blur of Oz yelling at me, looking for a new job, and avoiding Hannah and Oz at all costs.

Like any rational person, I decide to hide in plain sight.

Carlo's is a no-go, mainly due to Hannah working this week, but the daily planet is always an option.

I could practice my spitballing method.

But, it order to hide/go undercover efficiently, I should probably fuck Clark over in the process.

Didn't he and Lois have a fling at one point?

...

Bringing Clark lunch, was surprisingly more tricky than thought, mostly due to the fact I am half blind due to those ridicules glasses Clark insisted on me wearing, nothing except for my funeral clothes work with them either.

But I was never wearing those-especially after the Hell that happened last time. I'm still trying to convince myself it was all a night terror, but the barely visible mustard stain begs to differ.

For the souls purpose of pissing fashionista's off, I decided to dress as crazy as I could. That and I really wanted to screw up Clark's already (non existent) social life.

Hannah would die if she saw my attire.

It was pretty ridicules, and coming from someone with a startlingly scarce lack of fashion sense, it means it is really bad.

The glasses themselves looked like they where straight out of the '80s, an annoying tan with random initials scrawled on the side.

My shirt was the usual graphic tee, this one bubblegum pink with that Happy Bunny fellow flashing the middle finger. I had also taken to curtsey of writing, 'Fuck off, bitch.' in bold, sharpie lettering above it.

My pants where cargo, army green with pockets packed with random shit.

Mainly yo-yos and a glass figuring of a mermaid in my ass-pocket.

I choose to wear my lucky green sneakers to throw the look together, various 'super'villain names written all over them. Mainly to piss Oz off. Clark too, now.

...

Lois Lane, as I soon discovered, is easily the most aggravating woman I ever have had the misfortune to stumble across.

And for the life of me, I couldn't get Kent to fucking see what a poisonous bitch she was.

Men swooned as she passed, acting like bitches in heat.

Seriously.

You'd think if I spontaneously grew breasts and looked like a china doll men would trip over themselves to stare at me.

I wouldn't know or anything.

Not that I care.

Though Clark staring at her ass for the past 15 minutes has really started to bug me.

I sit a little straighter when it suddenly occurs to me he has x-ray vision.

That fucker.

He is probably checking out her underwear.

I hope her ass spontaneously develops warts or something.

Bitch.

As for the matter of why I am hiding under some guy named Jimmy's desk, is completely due to the fact that Clark wanted payback, and I still needed a place to hideout.

Never mind that his boss kicked me out or anything (snuck back in through the window).

As discretely as I can manage from hiding under a desk, I reach out and bonk Clark on the head before zipping back under effort anyone can see me.

The resulting death-glare earned from Clark as he rubs the top of his head is well worth the tibet of knowledge that I just technically assaulted Superman and got away without so much as a lecture.

I lean back, sending him a smirk in return-one that quickly fades as Jimmy returns and sits in his desk, giving me the slyest of apologetic glances.

It is only when the smell of old socks wafts it's way to my nose do I begin to seriously regret having forgiven Clark for abducting me.

I should have held this over his head for a much longer period of time.

Especially since now I've been forced to resort to hiding under desks while I wait for his asshat boss to leave so I could slip out.

It's been said before, but feels incredibly necessary to state now-I fucking hate Clark Kent sometimes.

A few hours later, and seventy-two games of Tetris later, my stomach begins growling. Loudly. Jimmy precedes to kick me-as if that would magically make my stomach stop complaining.

Shockingly, it does nothing, and if anything, my stomach seems to be louder.

Clark tosses Jimmy a brown paper bag (no clue where that came from), who then hands it to me.

A few minutes of fumbling later, and the bag is ripped from my hands, a vicious smack on my head from Jimmy before he painstakingly unravels the sandwich and hands it to me.

Without a thought, I bite into it.

Before promptly spitting it out.

The resonating splat against the metal desk seems to echo through the room.

Despite myself, a blush crosses my face when a notice Clark rolling his eyes.

I give a small shrug, waving the sandwich as if silently saying, 'I don't like tuna'.

Clark sighs, returning to his work and not sparing a glance at me for the rest of the day.

...

So. Fucking. Bored.

Clark refuses to so much as glance at me, Jimmy keeps stepping on my fingers which I have to pretend hurts because of it, and I can't even sleep because apparently, I 'snore'.

To top it all off, I have to piss.

Nevermind that I could probably move fast enough to get out before anyone sees me, but that would rasise suspecion on Jimmy's part.

...

6 hours later, I'm free.

Gasping fiercely for breath, I mock crawl out from under the desk, cooing happily, "Fresh air! I can breath again."

Jimmy-the sly fuckass, doesn't look worried, if anything, he looks slightly amused and exchanges a glance with Clark.

I tune out whatever they say after that, Clark explaining to Jimmy he had to finish a report or something before taking me home.

Yeah. Right.

Superman is going to walk me home.

My sarcasm is rewarded when Clark sits me in Jimmy's chair, which I promptly stand from and opt to instead snoop around Lois Lane's desk.

The follow silence is deafening.

"So... um... You are Superman, correct?"

I'm not sure why it felt necessary to say, but somehow it felt comforting. Especially since Kent doesn't seem super talkative now.

Clark gives me a soft smile and nod.

"So you're like in love with Lois Lane then?" I frown at the end of that, picking up a sparkly pink pen off her desk and twirling it between my fingers a little too roughly. It slips and penetrates itself in the wall, narrowly missing a picture of her and some other employees.

I still don't like her very much.

And judging by the fact I have developed super powers and Clark vowed to teach me... If he is in love with her I will be seeing her a lot.

"No." his answer is a bit to fast for my liking, and I find myself smiling at him slightly, mocking him from earlier before I can think better of it, "I'm sure."

He gives me a look, and the phrase 'if looks could kill' suddenly doesn't seem to far fetched.

He does have heat vision after all.

"Liar," I retort, not at all teasing. Teasing is an affectionate gesture. And I'm still way to blaming of him to be teasing.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Clark heaves a sigh, giving me the slightest glare before admitting cryptically, "Only sometimes."

I try not to giggle. I really do, but before I know it, I am doubled over as pearls of laughter hits me.

Eventually, after Clark began smiling and let out a few laughs himself I manage to compose myself enough to sit up and wipe away my tears.

My stomach aches, not the bad ache, but the good kind you can only really get from a fit of laughter.

It felt nice.

I smile at Clark, probably one of the brightest smiles I ever smiled, and it was returned just as easily as it was given.

I couldn't bring myself to hate him after that.

Even after he walked me home, actually initiating conversation along the way.


	10. Chapter 9

**Note: Petri... yeah. **

Chapter Nine: Blue

"Buffy Summers is pissing me off," is the first thing Hannah says to me after a solid 3 weeks of death glares and silence.

And, since the incident of being trapped at Clark's office for a day, I had been avoiding him slightly. Mainly due to the fact that it seemed he was busy with a freakish spurge of crimes, and was terrified I would be roped into helping.

So, like usually when Hannah enters a rant, usually about Buffy or sometimes even about her crush on Superman, I zoned out, mumbling the occasional, 'hm,' to keep her from directing her rage onto me.

Sue me.

It was dreadfully boring for the most part, listening to Hannah bitch about her life-lived vicariously through Buffy: The Vampire Slayer when she wasn't screwing Oz or that weird guy who always came into Tibby's looking for her.

How the fuck does she have such miraculous things happen to her so frequently?

Whatever.

My thoughts wander to the whole superpower-y goodness bestowed upon me.

It had only been about 3 weeks really, but felt a lot longer.

I still had problems, though was minimizing my destruction.

Basically I just stopped mentioning it or thinking of it altogether.

That was probably going to bite me in the ass later, and I couldn't-okay, that's a pile of bullshit, because I could blame Clark, though it most likely wouldn't go over in my favor so I was steering clear of that idea.

Besides, I was already blaming him for the manifestation of my powers period.

Before, I wasn't one of those geeks who pondered about how different life would be if I did develop powers.

I have got to stop thinking the word powers.

"Anyway. Now that that rant is over, I feel slightly inclined to say, your brother misses you. Make up with him, and introduce him to that scrumptious piece of sexiness."

What?

I don't know any-

Oh God.

She means Clark, doesn't she?

My cheeks burned.

Clark, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, was very... pretty.

Except for his eyes.

Those where hideous.

Oh fuck it.

He was beautiful.

If he wasn't an alien, I would feel inclined to say he was the most attractive man ever.

Wait.

He is a man, right?

And that wasn't correct... I mentally retract that statement, seeing as how it makes no sense.

And now I am having a mental conversation with myself.

Yippee.

And Clark is now attractive.

And apparently I somehow dropped the whole, 'Kent' thing, and have started to call him Clark.

Well. Isn't this just... Frivolous.

It suddenly occurs to me Hannah has hung up, and I'm holding up the line. Dropping the phone onto the receiver, I lean back against the wall, considering this new development.

Clark.

Huh.

...

A few hours later I finally convince myself the best thing I could do would be to avoid Clark Kent at all costs, and have just begun to dial Hannah'a number to inform her of this, when my balcony doors fly open.

"I need you to come out."

I rolled my eyes, crinkling my nose as I turned to glare at the current subject of my avoidance, snarking, "Gee, whatever for mom? Is it perhaps to lessen the fact when you tell the rest of the family about your drug addiction?"

Clark released a long and irritated breath-it couldn't be called a sigh, it was a bit to harsh, but definitely wasn't a huff either.

He only huffs when shit hits the fan and someone is acting like an idiot.

"I'm serious, Petri. With these recent outbreaks of violence recently, we can't let Metropolitans think that you're a villain. A very powerful one at that."

Damn it to fuck.

He's right.

Still, doesn't mean I have to go down easy.

With a self assured snort, I open my mouth to reply.

...

The smug, almost cheerful grin plastered on Clark's face makes me want to change my name to Yoslinda and become a drag queen in North Korea.

Self-righteous asshat.

He sat in front of me, explaining the Kryptonians or something or another to me, and how our powers are given to use and some other bullsh-did he just say...

"Wait, what?"

He raised an eyebrow, making a gesture for me to continue.

"Go back, what did you just say?"

"That I, and I assume, you, are going to pretty much live until the sun gets to old to support us?" he questioned warily, probably knowing the extent of my wrath.

Good.

Probably why the pansy was rushing.

I cracked my knuckles, giving him a death glare.

"You did this to me." I said. "I'm going to be trapped-forever, with you as my only constant."

I wanted to cry.

Instead I tackled him, successfully knocking him through the warehouse's wall.

We fall to the ground at a startling speed, which, at the most recent news of my near immortality, isn't as scary.

So I choose to focus on beating the living shit out of him, all the while, screaming at the top of my lungs, "This is your fault! If you would have never left, none of this would be happening to me!"

He dodges my hits, but doesn't necessarily fight back.

At some point, her shed his clothes and was now doped out in his Superman jig.

The crater that is caused when we land only phased the utterly perplexed woman we land in front of.

Vaguely, I realize how ridicules this whole thing must be to her-a girl, a decent 5'6, clad only in a makeshift belly shirt of her favorite band (Sex Pistols bitches) and cut offs, beating the living shit out of Superman.

The absurdity of the situation was not lost on me, so just to take it to the extra mile of 'WTF did I just witness,' I flash her a big grin from inside the crater, punching Clark as I do so and saying in a sickly sweet voice, "Men. Can't live with them, can't populate the world without them."

After she runs off, I sat back, my face falling completely as I locked eyes with Clark.

Slowly, I brought my finger up, and traced his nose. "Your eyes are too blue, you know. I told myself I hated them the first time I saw you."

He doesn't respond for a long time, until sirens began to become louder, my gaze having long since dropped to a loose string on my shirt.

"And now?"

I looked up, giving him the smallest of smiles as I said, "I think I'm glad they're not green."


	11. Chapter 10

_**Warning: I wrote this at like 2 am, and haven't read over it at all. If it is atrocious to the point you demand I take it down, alright. Say it, and I will.**_

_**That being said I can't remember for the life of me what happens in this chapter... Pretend it makes sense.**_

**Note:I swore I was done. Spillow was a thing of the past. No more lesbian red haired witch with bleach blonde Billy Idol-look-alike vampire. **

**I fell of the bandwagon again. **

**I literally cannot stop. **

**Spillow. My feels have... there are no words how much I hate Joss for not having this ship happen.**

Chapter Ten: Fears

As the sirens drew closer to us, Clark seemed to have an internal debate with himself.

Finally, when cars started screeching to a stop, I took matters I to my own hands.

I stood, slowly lifting my shirt above my head, suddenly thankful I wasn't wearing a bra, and shed my shorts too.

My hands went to my underwear, but Clark cut me off by a frantic, "What are you doing?"

I gave him my best, 'for-a-smart-guy-your-an-idiot,' look before informing him dryly, "Wouldn't it be best for them to think I am an alien? And, the best way I can see that happening is disposing of my clothes, and turning up naked. It would be easier to explain. Much easier, since I wouldn't be wearing a Sex Pistols shirt, dumbass!"

He glanced down to my underwear again, and with a sigh, stood and slowly flew to the top of our crater. "Give me a minute to... warn, everyone?"

"Sure sure," I grumbled, suddenly not liking this idea.

I waited all but two seconds, having vaporized my clothes and taken my underwear off.

Huh.

Breezy.

I was thankful my heat vision was cooperating, though I did leave a suspicious scorch mark at the bottom of the crater.

I then slowly moved to the top.

I first thing I did, using my magnificent super speed, was hiding underneath Clark's cape, covering myself as best I could.

This of course meant pressing myself against Superman and virtually using the cape as a blanket.

Pictures where snapped from every reporter that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, the cops looked baffled, and I, I hid my face as best as I could from view.

"Is it working?" I finally asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah. They think you're from Krypton."

A wary grin crossed my face as I groused, "Hooray for my quick thinking, eh Ke-" I cut myself off from using his last name, a panicked look crossing my face, our voices where now loud enough for some of those closer by people to pick it up.

Instead of breaking my arm or anything, Clark simply laughed and said, "Kal-El. That's my name on Krypton, but people of Earth call me Superman."

I scoffed. "A bit egotistical, aren't we?"

At Clark-sorry, Kal-El's unamused glare, I corrected louder, "I am..." think quick Petri, you have one chance to reinvent your name, don't fuck it up. "Kif-" do I have to have the hyphen? Judging from Clark's slightly worried glance, I assume that I do. "-Mal."

Kif-Mal?

Darth Mal, anyone?

What is Kif, anyway? Isn't that the green fellow from Futurama or something?

Great.

Kudos to me.

Kal-El doesn't seem too disappointed, just slightly bemused, while everyone else looks enthralled.

"Kif? Like from Futurama?"

Oh for the love of-

"No." I informed them, my voice really cold and detached sounding.

Basically, I sounded like a complete bad ass.

I resisted the urge to jump for joy, instead giving a menacing glare and burrowing myself further in Kal-El's cape.

The reporter leered at me. I crinkled my nose, shifting my gaze to superman and back to the man, before saying in a malicious tone, "I'm hungry, Kal."

The humans blanched, taking a noticeable step backwards.

Then, her voice cuts through the air.

"Superman! Superman!"

Her shrill, desperate voice echoes through the area.

My eye twitches.

Lois Lane.

You bitch, you.

Clark tensed slightly, his eyes narrowing as his gaze landed on her.

He looked like a lost puppy.

This pissed me off more than I would care to admit.

Impulsively,I wrap my arms around his waste, standing on my tippy toes to say in his ear quietly, "I am still naked, you do realize. Not the exact way I hoped to meet... Lois." I virtually spit her name out, over enunciating it and making it sound even more hideous than before.

Clark gave me the best glare one could manage from over his shoulder.

Finally, the Queen of all things annoying steps through the crowd.

She paused at the sight of him, a small, almost dreamy grin breaking across her features and a lovesick look in her eyes.

Great.

She has feelings for him too, apparently.

Now they can get married and have little super-babies while I am forced to listen to him obsess over her until the end of time.

Me bitter?

No. Not at all.

I step out from behind Kent when she takes a step closer.

Willing to do whatever it takes to see if she is actually worth hearing about?

Yeah, pretty much.

She faltered completely in her steps-I guess you could say she halted, but that word for some reason reminds me of bras.

I ignore the eyes on my breasts and other assets.

I have wonderful tits. All perky and such.

I manage to scrape by in a padded B.

My ass is pretty great too.

Turning my head to the side, I study her, suddenly ready to play up the whole, 'alien', ruse.

This will be interesting.

...

Half an hour later, several-14 to be exact-digs at Lois' appearance, and her flappy breasts, Jimmy manages to secure some clothes for me, while the rest of the reporters question me fiercely.

Clark directed questions away from me for the most part, and gave them a simple, overall bullshit lie about how I was from his planet, a civilian and never fully educated on our planet.

I managed to put in that I learned English through their radio transmissions.

Jimmy then asked why I choose English instead of anything else. I then sprouted something off in gibberish, thankfully that sounded faintly like a Chinese curse word.

Everyone pretty much shut up after that.

Except Lois who kept pestering me about my relationship with Clark.

Finally, I exploded when she asked, "So being the last two of your kind, do you have any plans of attempting to continue your race?"

"I fail to see how that is any of your business, Miss Lane. Our planet's... rituals, are presumably much different from that of a human's."

Clark didn't let me so much as speak after that, silencing me each time with a well executed death glare.

Finally, hours later, we managed to slip away.

Clark took my by my apartment, and I quickly threw on some clothes and the '80s glasses before brushing my hair and putting on a hat.

My apartment would have to be abandoned, most likely.

Sometime between the 2 minutes it took to get me home and get ready, Clark managed to successfully dress himself and complete an article about the 'newest superhero', he even quoted what I said to Lois.

Huh.

I thought he was pissed at me for that.

Not that I care, or anything.


	12. Chapter 11

**Note: I have a reason for the delay. My brother and my parents got into a fight, and he took the car and ran off with his girlfriend. **

**They he came back awhile later, and they talked I guess. I was hiding in the closet. **

**School started Monday, and I have a lot of extra curricular activities, and intense classes. **

**Got put in Newspaper as a graphic designer, in Art II, and AP World History. I was going to take Pre AP English II, but didn't feel like it.** **S'been fun.**

Chapter Eleven: Problems

The bottom of my foot was peeling.

I wasn't sure how it happened exactly, and Clark seemed bewildered that I insisted on informing him every time I sat on the couch.

Superman has a surprisingly messy apartment.

Since the appearance of 'Punch Girl', Clark assures me he didn't come up with that worthless shit of a name, I've been living with Superman himself.

Dickweed.

Won't even let me leave the damn place.

Oz is leaving tomorrow, and I still haven't had the chance to make amends, and judging my his frantic phone calls, he knows. Hannah is freaking out and trying to convince him to wait for me to explain.

I've decided to simply blow them off and hope the issue goes away on its own.

Ignoring is good.

"Come on Petri. We are for. Going to Kansas."

I could think of 27 reasons why I hated Clark Kent in that moment.

1)My feet where peeling for some unholy reason,which I felt inclined to blame on him once again.

2)He seemed positively set on making my life as nice as possible.

3)He was going to inevitably kick my ass at "sparing".

4)My superhero alterego was named 'Punch Girl', and I am pretty sure that was his fault.

5)He is in love with Queen Bitch Lois.

6)I am going to get my ass kicked.

7)I don't look good with bruising.

8)...

Okay, maybe not 27 reasons in that particular moment, but I was sure something would come to me eventually.

I shook my head, picking at the bottom of my foot. "How 'bout no."

His eyes narrowed, and he unceremoniously picked up one end of the couch and knocked me off, mocking, "How 'bout yes."

"No." I said, standing.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No."

"Yes."

Fuck.

I scowled, my lips pursing and my brow furrowing together while my eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Asshole."

He smirked.

...

Kansas was hot. My ass hurt from Kent dragging me there-sorry, flew. A shitty job too, nearly killed myself when I wasn't screaming for my dear, precious life.

How does this make ones ass hurt?

He dropped me when his house came into view with the intention to get me to start flying.

It worked for about five seconds, and I hovered proudly 100 feet over the ground, before I fell and promptly landed on my ass.

Kent laughed.

His parents didn't.

His folks were pretty weird, cautious, and kept shooting me suspicious glares when they thought I wasn't looking.

Though that may have been because the second Clark landed, I ran at him full speed and punched him.

A bruised jaw, a series of curses and several broken fingers later, Clark sat next to me on his parent's couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and an annoyed look on his face.

Though that may have been because I kept making digs at Lois Lane, which seemed to thrill his mother.

I like to think we bonded during that time over our hatred over the mega slut.

She probably didn't.

After finally introducing his parents to me, explaining to me that he brought me here the night I was attacked by a lunatic with kryptonite, I was only mildly bewildered by how pissed his parents seemed at me.

I mean, sure, I probably ruined their corn field, and yeah, I probably bleed all over their counters and stained their couch, but does that really give them a valid reason to hate my guts?

What do they have against my guts anyway?

Other than the blood and stuff.

I suppose I could see where they where coming from, I would be livid, most likely. But that doesn't mean they should be mad.

I felt hypocritical.

Then she stood, offered me a hand and greeted, "Martha Kent, it's a pleasure to finally see you in full consciousness. Clark has told us a lot about you."

My first reaction was a startled 'fuck, what did the puss say?' Thankfully, for no reasons that need to be voiced, I managed a strangled, "Petri Dish. My mother hated me," before ripping my hand from hers and resuming my glare of death at Clark.

"I'm Jonathan. It's a pleasure to meet you, Petri."

What.

Why the fuck nuggets isn't Clark this polite?

Or is he actually more like his parents, guarded, and all gooey and gross on the inside?

At least, I'm assuming that's the case, mainly judging by the look Mrs. Kent is giving me.

...

Flying through the air, at a seemingly impossibly fast speed, an aching skull and a sore ass is not my idea of a fun filled vacation.

Superman punches hard. And they hurt. Badly.

The ground doesn't seem to appreciate our fighting, neither are his parents.

I don't either, for that matter.

Clark heaved a sigh, landing next to me with just enough grace I want to rip his head off and play kickball with it, and kneeling.

"Are you even trying?" he asked, confusion coloring his voice. My eye twitched, and the next thing I knew, I was beating the shit out of Superman.

I wasn't sure how it happened-I mean, I had been strong, sure.

At times.

But never this strong.

Is that a bruise forming? Oh well.

A grin stretched across his features, and suddenly, Superman was gone.

I froze, staring shocked at the spot he was just in, breathing heavily and letting my arms drop to my side.

A pair of arms wrapped around me, holding me so tightly I couldn't move.

"Gotcha," he mumbled, face remarkably close to mine.

I think, if I hadn't have panicked, several things wouldn't have happened.

1) Clark and I would have had a moment.

And 2) I probably wouldn't have learned of the cool party trick I somehow developed.

One minute I was in his arms, pressed tightly to his chest, completely unable to move, and the next, I was falling through his arms.

"Oh dirt! Tell me your secrets." I rumbled, my face securely planted in the ground.

When I lifted my head to glare daggers and possibly curse at Clark for dropping me, when I caught sight of his parents bewildered expression.

I raised a brow, turning curious eyes on-holy fuck. What's his problem?

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He ignores my question, answering with his own. "Why didn't you tell me you could control your molecules."

What the fuck?

"Huh?"


	13. Chapter 12

**Note: Shit gets real. sorry for the late update. I fucking suck, you can say it.**

**And this has always been an intention of mine to happen, so don't bullshit to me about it being 'random'. Anyone who wants further explanation feel free to PM me.**

Chapter Twelve: Killers

My nose was bleeding again.

But it somehow felt more poetic than before. Sweat rolled down the side of my face, my fist held against my side.

He looked worn out, his lip bleeding and his costume torn in places my fingernails had snagged.

Even now, standing before me as my enemy, a distant part of my couldn't help but marvel about how blue his eyes were.

I crushed the thought when he shifted, preparing to counter his attack.

12 hours earlier...

I stared in the mirror, my eyes narrowing as I took in the appearance of my breasts.

Where they... smaller?

Fuck.

They look smaller.

I puff my chest forward, attempting a sexy face.

Nope.

Still small.

Curiously, I jump on my feet slightly, watching them bounce.

Inevitably, I decide they have a nice perk that makes up for their lack of... thereness.

I held my arms up, flexing them. I have a decent muscle mass.

I grin, my eyes drifting back to I my boobs.

My arms drop to my sides, and I sigh, cupping them in my hands and jiggling them.

"Dammit to fuck. This is disappointing." I mutter under my breath. "Wonderwoman so has implants."

Since the appearance of Punch Girl in the public eye, I had formed a fan base of sorts, mainly composed of creepy fanboys trying to catch a peak at my tits or fan fiction surrounding me doing dirty things with Wonderwoman or Batman.

It got pretty fucking weird at times.

Surprisingly, Clark was the one to tell me about it, grumbling something angrily about nothing mentioning Superman.

I didn't know he cared.

Worming my way into the tank top I'd been wearing all week, and jumping up and down in attempt to get into the army green cargo pants, I was half amazed I didn't fall over-though I should probably credit that to my powers.

With one last glance at my boobs and an aggravated huff, I storm through the door, walking straight into Kent and preceding to tumble down the stairs in a mass of limbs.

I bonked my nose on him at some point, resulting in a fountain of blood gushing onto the floor.

"Fuck!" I growled, smacking him on the back of the head as I go into the kitchen in search of a towel.

Ten minutes later saw me sitting on the couch, towel pressed up to my nose and Disney channel playing quietly.

"Oh Petri! There you are, I was looking everywhere for you."

She was?

...you'd think I would have heard her or something. I mean, Hannah Montana wasn't on too loudly.

I had some dignity.

I quirked my brow, trying my hardest not to frown at her as she tugged me towards her and Mr. Kent's room.

She then threw a bundle into my arms, a grin splitting across her features as she aimed me to the bathroom.

"Go on, put it on Petri... I was thinking for your costume." she explained.

I scowled as I stared at it.

It was essentially a short sleeved black leotard, black and white striped tights, fingerless gloves, knee high converse I wasn't aware existed, and a black domino mask.

Sewn securely on the chest-thankfully hiding my recent lack of boobage, curse these muscles-was an obnoxiously pink squiggly lines that seemed to make up an H.

It was odd-and I felt really uncomfortable in it in general, but was silently thankful it actually had tights along with it and wasn't quite as revealing as majority of Superwomen costumes.

Still.

I shifted nervously as I walked out, bracing myself for her plethora of idea changes to make it better.

Instead, her bright grin and nod left me boggled as she left the room, returning moments later with her camera.

"It suits you, Petri. Your personality." she said.

Really?

It didn't feel that way.

I sorta felt like a hooker wannabe punk fairy whose outfit wasn't quite complete.

But she seemed really proud of herself in capturing my 'essence' as she insisted on figuring out all week before anyone else got to me.

I figured it couldn't hurt to roll with it.

With an internal shrug, I put the mask on, smoothing out the creases on the leotard.

At least my ass looks good, I mused.

...  
Clark Kent is an evil, sadistic bastard.

Not only did he manage to drag my back to Metropolis, claiming quite suddenly that we had to return immediately-dipshit didn't even pause to check out how great I looked in my little ballerina get up, he also decided to call a huge press meeting to announce some important news I couldn't be told of.

Bitch.

I shifted awkwardly in front of the crowd, eyeing Clark on occasion when he glared at me for quietly mumbling the lyrics to a song I had heard on the radio on afternoon.

"They said she died easy of a broken heart disease-" he cut me off by saying loudly, "Punch Girl has agreed to join the Justice League."

What? When did I agree to th-oh fuck no.

That asshat.

I stood up and punched him in the gut, spewing something out that sounded vaguely Russian, though I couldn't be sure as I had tragically failed when Hannah tried to get both Oz and I to learn.

He gave me a look, halfway bewildered and halfway between resolved as this had a long time coming.

An annoying, niggly little voice at the back of my head informed me in a voice that sounded startlingly like Hannah's, "You have anger issues."

I didn't even fucking care that the press was snapping footage and people where screaming in terror.

Fuck this shit.

I was always the bad guy anyway, wasn't I?

May as well play the part.


	14. Chapter 13

**Note: Chapter fifteen is coming up soon, which to those who don't know, is usually where I begin shoutouts when I am unsure how long the story will be, and continue this every five-ten chapters or so, mainly so it isn't overwhelming and hard to actually reach the chapter. :)**

**That being said and out of the way, this continues where The beginning of chapter 12 left off.**

Chapter Thirteen: Marvellous

His fist cracked against the side of my head, the force behind it sending me into a wall. I pushed up, propelling myself towards him.

My arms wrapped around his waist and I attempted to squeeze be air out of him, making myself as dense as I could while my vision swam.

I could only hold it for a few minutes, but it was successful enough to get him gasping for breath before he pried me off.

I smirked, my world continuing to spin, worrying me slightly.

Clark's eyes met mine, and I instinctively knew we where going to go our separate ways in a few moments-for the first time since we met, I think that was the first time we turkey saw eye to eye, completely understanding what the other wanted.

I wanted to go home, and so did he.

With one lat glance at the buildings we knocked down in our fight, I turned and walked away, not bothering to say something cheesy like, "You haven't seen the last of me," or some other dumb shit.

The state my apartment in when I saw it brought me to tears I wasn't aware I was capable of producing.

Papers scattered on the floor, ripped and unrecognisable. The place was in a state of awry, probably from Hannah or Oz recognising me as a criminal now and this was their way of saying, "Get lost."

So I fell to my knees, ripping the mask off and letting it drop to the floor, not bothering to wipe the tears away.

I cried until it felt like I could finally have a conversation without getting choked up, I grabbed my inhaler, threw on some clothes, jeans and a hoodie and left.

The street was painfully loud, voices chatting around me amplified to a painful volume.

Everyone who looked at me, I thought they knew.

I expected with every fibre of my being that a member of the Justice League would pop out, attacking me. Treating me like public enemy # 1...

But I guess I was.

So I did what I usually did when I messed up, I called Oz from a pay phone in a suspicious neighbourhood.

"Hello?" he sounded tired, his voice worn.

"I messed up real bad this time Oz." the words tumbled from my lips before I could fully think them over, and judging by the sharp intake of breath, it was better than thinking it through.

"Where are you?" was all that came in response, a finalised tone to his voice.

"Uh... some placed called 'Victory'. A few miles outside of Metropolis."

"I'll be right there."

Half an hour later he pulled up in Hannah's DeSoto, Moose in the front seat, and a scowl painted on his features. Even Satan's hound looked upset with me.

I climbed into the back seat without a word.

Staring out of Oz's window as the rain dripped down filled me with a strange sense of déjà vu. How many times had this happened before?

A fight with our foster parents, and I would call him up from a stranger's phone, inform him of the address and pray he arrived before something really bad happened.

A few weeks later we tended to be relocated, and the process started again.

"I'm sorry."

He looked over at me, his blue-grey eyes analysing me for several moments before flickering back to the road. "I know you are."

"For everything," I paused, my eyes landing on his face.

He turned his head, shaking it slowly. "It was bound to happen eventually."

Yeah.

He was probably right.

...

I had almost successfully convinced myself it was all a bad dream-never mind the bruises on my cheek or the fact that the ceiling fan in Hannah's apartment looked like it was going to spin off.

I made a mistake. A very, very bad and big mistake. One I was probably neer going to be able to take back. Kudos to me.

With a sigh, I roll off the mattress, finding the way onto my feet without a thought.

Hannah hadn't spoken to me, settling instead on giving me annoyed glances.

Maybe it had more to do with the fact that I had run off while she was still angry.

It didn't seem likely, but made me feel better than thinking she was disappointed in my current path.

I was the bad guy.

I was the big bad of someone's nightmares.

I didn't want her to see me that way.

Oz's obvious disappointment was enough, the words hadn't even left his lips and yet I could see them clearer than anything I'd ever had spelt out for me.

I messed up. Really bad. And I couldn't figure out how I was going to fix it.

A far away part of me wondered if I would ever be able too.

Clark was angry with me-he probably knew I was going to do this all along. He was expecting it, just waiting for the stupid human to become his enemy.

I was half surprise he put up with me for that long.

My thoughts drifted to Jimmy, and a sense of defeat filled me in more ways than one.

He wouldn't ever really know why I stopped talking to him, why Clark's weird 'friend' stop showing up to hide under desks and spit out tuna sandwiches.

I wondered what Clark would say to him, before I concluded that probably wasn't the best idea to linger on at the moment.

Instead I laid on the couch, the sound of cars growing louder and conversations from inside the buildings around us grew louder-until it was too much.

I covered my ears and tried not to cry.


End file.
